For Paul Frehley, a kid from the Bronx, becoming a guitar god in the crowded rock scene felt like an impossible dream.
His fortunes changed when he joined Kiss, transforming into Ace Frehley. He quickly realized that sheer musical talent wouldn’t guarantee fame; he needed to embrace spectacle. And embrace it he did, crafting a persona that would redefine rock ‘n’ roll showmanship.
Surprisingly, it was his early passion for art, honed during his less-than-enthusiastic high school days, that first paved his path to glory. Frehley himself designed the iconic Kiss logo, ingeniously turning the final two letters into striking lightning bolts.
When the band decided on elaborate makeup for their January 1973 stage debut, Frehley was enthusiastically on board.
“It didn’t bother me at all,” he confessed in “Kiss: Behind the Mask,” the band’s official history. “I was always into wild things. The first night, I painted my face silver. The second night, I thought, ‘That’s boring. I’ll have to think up something more imaginative.’ I started painting stars on my eyes.”
Those striking star patterns weren’t just paint; they were a portal, transforming a regular club musician into the iconic superhero: The Spaceman, or Space Ace. Frehley, who recently passed away at 74, fully embraced this extraterrestrial identity, playfully claiming to hail from the distant planet Jendell in the Klaatu solar system, and often expressed a whimsical desire to escape Earth.
His bandmates—Paul Stanley, Gene Simmons, and Peter Criss—shared his zeal for theatricality. Stanley himself became the band’s unofficial fashion designer, meticulously crafting the outlandish costumes that gave them the appearance of characters ripped from a B-movie horror or sci-fi flick.
During an early Manhattan performance, Frehley and his band unleashed their signature high-volume sound against the backdrop of his self-designed, four-foot illuminated Kiss logo. While still perfecting the pyrotechnics that would later define their shows, one memorable incident, documented by Will Hermes in “Love Goes to a Building on Fire,” saw a front-row fan’s eyebrows singed. Yet, the audience’s adoration was undeniable.
Kiss’s arrival was perfectly timed. Following an era dominated by introspective singer-songwriters like James Taylor and Joni Mitchell, who offered raw, nuanced performances, the music world was hungry for a grand, theatrical spectacle.
With their distinctive comic-book aesthetics and fiery stage tricks, Kiss stripped rock down to its exhilarating core: simple, unadulterated fun, reminiscent of early pioneers like Eddie Cochran. Their philosophy was famously encapsulated in their anthem: “I wanna rock ’n’ roll all night / And party everyday.”
Not everyone was a fan, however. Critics like Lester Bangs, a vocal champion of raw rock in publications like Creem and Rolling Stone, was reportedly dismayed when his own children favored Kiss over Aerosmith.
Yet, as music writer Sylvie Simmons observed in a 1998 Mojo reassessment, Kiss possessed a unique charm. She described them as “metal bubblegum more than scary stud-rock,” crafting “punch-along anthems with just the right pauses for the fireworks, bombs and solos.”
Embracing this rock ‘n’ roll carnival brought Frehley everything he craved, including, predictably, the quintessential rock-star excesses. A notable incident occurred in 1981 when he led squad cars on a high-speed chase down the Bronx River Parkway in his DeLorean, resulting in an arrest for driving under the influence. Fortunately, no one was injured.
By the close of the decade, Frehley had found a calmer path. “I really don’t race cars anymore, because that got me in trouble,” he shared in a 1989 Musician magazine interview. “For the past couple years I’ve kind of slowed down on all that nonsense and I’ve gotten into a health kick.”
Unlike some artists who eventually resent the personas that propelled them to fame, Frehley revelled in his Spaceman identity. He seemed truly vibrant in his dazzling, V-fronted costume and Flash Gordon-esque cape. For him, swapping his Bronx roots for an otherworldly, exotic image was a trade well made.
“I was the loser, the black sheep of the family, until I joined Kiss,” he proudly stated in “Behind the Mask.” “Now, I’m the big winner.”